Unleashed (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (8 page)

Sam looked like he was speaking from experience. I wondered if that was why Sheila had left Brian a decade earlier. Aside from that love-at-first-sight thing.

Sam’s eyes were closed again. Though it wasn’t late, he was fighting to stay awake. Effects of the alcohol, or of the day? Maybe he just needed the oblivion that sleep would bring.

I walked to the closet in the front hall and got out a blanket. Sam rallied enough to see me coming. He shook his head. “Don’t take care of me.”

“Why not?” I pulled his legs up onto the couch and spread the blanket over him. “Would you rather stay here or do you want me to help you upstairs?”

“No, I don’t ...” His voice faded away.

“You don’t need my help?”

His next words were soft. I had to lean closer to hear them.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, Sam.” A tear hovered in the edge of my eye. Annoyed, I blinked it away. Sam didn’t notice. He was already snoring.

I let the dogs out and back in, turned off the lights, and left him to sleep it off.

Sunday morning I awoke to the aroma of fresh coffee and the sound of Nintendo. Faith and Tar had both been in my bedroom when I’d gone to bed. Now they were gone, downstairs with the game players, no doubt.

Checking my clock, I saw that it was just past seven. I hoped Davey hadn’t awakened Sam too early. Throwing on a robe, I ventured down to find out.

“Hey, Mom!” Davey yelled when he saw me. Just in case I couldn’t hear him across the expanse of our small living room. “Look who’s here!”

Considering the shape I’d left him in, Sam looked remarkably well. His clothes were rumpled, his blond hair, damp from a shower. But the blue eyes were clear, and the day’s growth of beard looked pretty sexy.

Immediately, he levered himself up off the couch. “Let me get you some coffee.”

“But it’s almost your turn,” Davey complained.

“Let Tar play for me,” Sam said. “If you can beat the puppy, we’ll let you try your hand against the grown-up dog.”

We walked to the kitchen together, Sam trailing a somewhat hesitant halfstep behind. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I probably should have gone home.”

I let the gap close between us and wound my arms around his waist. “You did come home.”

I felt him relax just a bit and hugged him to me harder. After all the time we’d been together, how could he still have any doubts about where he belonged?

Sam squeezed me back for a moment, then stepped away and went to the cupboard for a mug. I almost followed, wanting to keep him close, but something about the way his gaze evaded mine held me back. Instead, I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down.

“Did we have a chance to talk last night?” he asked. “Or did I fall asleep right away?”

“We talked some. I still have plenty of questions.”

“I figured you would. Shoot.”

“Who found Sheila and called the police? What happened to all her Pugs? And at what point did you manage to get yourself pickled in alcohol?”

Sam added milk to the mug of hot coffee and set it down in front of me, then pulled out a chair and sat, too. “Sheila was found by her next-door neighbor, Nancy Benning. Apparently the Pugs had been barking for much of Friday night, and they kept it up on Saturday. According to what Mrs. Benning told the police, that was very unusual.

“She knew that Sheila had a number of dogs, but she’d never been bothered by them before. It wasn’t clear whether she went to Sheila’s to complain about the noise or investigate, but she found the front door open, walked in, and immediately called 911.”

Sam’s fingers drummed lightly on the tabletop, keeping time as he spoke. “Judging by what they told us yesterday, the police seem to think Sheila was the victim of a burglary gone bad. A secluded home, a woman alone. They figure she looked like an easy target.

“There doesn’t seem to have been much stuff stolen, but then, being a furnished rental, Sheila didn’t have much in the house. Brian had a better idea about that than I did. The TV and a CD player were gone. He thought maybe some silver candlesticks were missing. The police were guessing that she might have come upon the burglars unexpectedly. They panicked and killed her.”

I blew across the top of my steaming mug and ran through the scenario in my mind. It didn’t make sense. “What about Sheila’s Pugs? If someone was casing the neighborhood looking for a place to rob, I’d think that all those dogs would serve as a pretty strong deterrent.”

“I agree,” said Sam. “When the police arrived, the Pugs were outside in the back. My guess is they’d been out all night; that’s why Mrs. Benning was able to hear them barking. The guy in charge, Detective Holloway, told me that’s why the burglars weren’t worried about the dogs. Because they knew Sheila kept them outside.”

“But she didn’t,” I protested. “They were house dogs, just like yours and mine. I bet Sheila never left them out when she wasn’t there.”

Sam nodded. His thoughts on the matter had clearly mirrored mine. “She didn’t. Aside from the fact that they were her pets, those Pugs were champion show dogs, and irreplaceable building blocks in Sheila’s breeding program. She never would have treated them so carelessly.

“I told Holloway that, but you know how it is when someone isn’t a dog person. He probably has neighbors who keep their dog chained to a tree in the backyard, and he thinks that’s the way everyone does it. He didn’t think that the fact that the Pugs were outside was important.”

“Dope,” I muttered. “It makes a huge difference. If Sheila wasn’t home when the burglars got there, then the Pugs would have been locked in the house. So if the Pugs
were
outside, that means Sheila was home. It also probably means that she let her murderer into the house.”

Sam was silent, digesting what I’d said. “There weren’t any signs of forced entry,” he said, after a moment. “Several windows in the house were open. The police surmise that’s how the burglars gained entry. They were grumbling about how lax people get with security in the summer. Warm night, older home, no air-conditioning. Especially living out in the middle of nowhere like that, everyone leaves their windows open.”

I nodded in agreement. The part of Stamford Davey and I lived in was more suburban than North Salem, but we’d both slept with the windows in our bedrooms open the night before.

“They found Sheila’s body in the kitchen,” Sam said quietly. “You remember those leashes she had hanging on a hook in the pantry? That’s how she was killed. The murderer strangled her.”

I glanced at Faith’s leash, hanging over the knob to the back door. A six-foot strip of sturdy leather, it was meant to form a subtle line of communication between dog and owner. I’d never thought of it a weapon before; now I wondered how long it would be before I could see it as anything else.

“I guess that supports the detective’s theory that Sheila surprised an intruder. It sounds like the killer just grabbed whatever was handy.”

“Or knew she kept the leads there.”

Stranger or friend? I wondered. Who was the last person Sheila had seen? Neither thought held the slightest bit of comfort.

The coffee Sam had poured me was hot and dark. I took a large swallow and felt it burn its way down my throat. “What happened to the Pugs? You didn’t leave them at Sheila’s house?”

“No, of course not. Brian has them at his place in Purchase. Big house, couple acres of land, kennel out back. Built for the Saints, but the Pugs seemed to find it pretty comfortable. That’s where I ended up going last night. Brian volunteered to take care of the dogs, and it seemed like a good solution. Except of course, they didn’t all fit in Brian’s car.”

Whereas Sam’s Blazer would hold five Pugs quite handily.

“So you drove the Pugs to Purchase ...” I prompted.

Sam looked sheepish. “When we got there, Brian said I should come on in for a drink. You know, just something to settle our nerves? Next thing I knew we were doing shots of Chivas. A toast to Sheila. Another to the good old days.”

He shook his head. Judging by the way his eyes narrowed to a squint, the small movement hurt. “God, what was I thinking?”

I reached across the table and covered Sam’s hand with mine. “That you’d just been through a terrible experience and wanted to forget about it for a while?”

“I guess. But that doesn’t make it right. And to drown my sorrows with Brian, of all people. I must have been out of my mind.”

Sam shoved back his chair and stood. My hand fell away. He walked over to the sink and stared out the window.

“Grief does funny things to people,” I said quietly. My fingers stung from having smacked against the tabletop. Sam didn’t seem to have noticed. “Everyone handles it differently.”

“Well so far, I guess I haven’t been doing a very good job. It’s not like Sheila was still part of my life. The only thing we really had between us was the past. And yet somehow, I can’t believe that she’s really gone.”

He strode out the arched doorway and into the narrow hall that led to the front of the house. A minute later, I heard the front door open and close.

My first impulse was to go after him. My second, more rational thought, was that I was still wearing pajamas and a robe. Instead I walked into the living room and looked out the window.

Sam’s Blazer was still in the driveway. He was on foot, which meant he’d have to come back eventually. Besides, I still had his puppy.

“Where did Sam go?” Davey asked, briefly distracted from his video game.

“For a walk.” I let the curtain fall. “Let me just get dressed and we’ll take the dogs and go find him, okay?”

“Okay. You can hold Faith, and I’ll hold Tar.”

On leashes, I thought, and my stomach plummeted.

During the past couple years, I’d been involved in the investigation of several murders. Usually the victims had been people I barely knew; occasionally, they’d been someone I’d despised. But Sheila’s death was different.

I could see the effect her loss had had on Sam; now I was beginning to realize how much it would affect me, too. The discovery that he still cared so much made me feel all hollow inside. I’d had a hard enough time with Sam’s ex-wife when she was alive. I couldn’t compete with a memory; I wasn’t even sure I wanted to try.

Twenty minutes later, I was back downstairs and ready to go. I’d gotten Faith’s lead and was looking for something to use on Tar when the phone began to ring. I reached across the counter and picked up.

“Melanie? It’s Brian. I’ve been trying to find Sam. Is he there?”

“He is, but he went out for a walk. Do you want me to give him a message?”

“Sure. Tell him I need a favor. Did he tell you I’ve got Sheila’s Pugs?”

“Yes.”

“I should have thought of this at the time ... I guess I had other things on my mind. The old bitch, Blossom, has a thyroid deficiency and needs her medicine. Sheila had tablets she gave her every day. On Sunday, there’s no way I’m going to be able to get them replaced by a vet. Do you think Sam would mind going up to Sheila’s place and picking them up?”

“No ...” I said slowly. We were about half an hour from North Salem. Brian, in Purchase, was probably a few minutes closer. “Of course, then he’ll have to bring them down to you. Wouldn’t it be easier if you just went and got them yourself?”

“Can’t,” said Brian. “I don’t have a key.”

I opened my mouth to state that Sam would have the same problem, then stopped, wondering. “Does Sam?”

“He said he did last night.”

Funny, I thought. He’d never mentioned that to me.

Or maybe, depending on your outlook, it wasn’t funny at all. Giving someone a key suggested a certain level of intimacy. Sheila had been seeing Brian, yet she hadn’t given him a key. So why had Sam needed such easy access?

Silence on the line attested to the fact that Brian was waiting. “Sure,” I heard myself blurt. “We’ll be happy to pick up the pills. Do you know where Sheila kept them?”

“On a shelf in the bathroom. It’s one of those little orange vials. I’m sure it’s marked. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”

“Will you be home later this morning?”

“I’ll stay here ‘til you get here. And thanks.”

I hung up the phone and immediately dialed again. Davey’s best friend, Joey Brickman, lived down the street. His mother, Alice, was also one of my best friends, and she’d had Davey dumped on her more times than I could count.

Of course, Joey makes plenty of unexpected visits to our house, too. We tend to think of the system as a series of last-minute play dates. Otherwise known as covering each other’s butts.

Alice, her husband Joe, and their two children, Carly and Joey, were on their way to church, but Alice said they’d be back in an hour. I offered a sketchy scenario of how I’d be spending my day, and she told me to drop Davey off on our way to North Salem.

As I hung up the phone, I heard a commotion in the front hall. Poodles barking, Davey laughing. I was guessing Sam was back.

“Hey,” he said, walking into the kitchen, with my son hanging from one leg and the two Poodles acting as an honor guard. “What’s up?”

I was pleased to see he looked much better than he had half an hour earlier. But not thrilled to realize that time alone had helped, whereas time with me had not.

“Breakfast is up,” I said, hoping I sounded more cheery than I felt. “I’m making French toast. Then Davey is going over to Joey’s house and you and I are going to North Salem. Brian called. One of the Pugs needs her meds, and I told him we’d pick them up.”

I didn’t mention the house key. Neither did Sam. Instead, he was quiet through much of breakfast, and I wondered what he was thinking. Davey ate three pieces of French toast and got caught trying to slip Faith a bite under the table. It took me ten minutes to wash the maple syrup out of her hair.

By ten o’clock, we were on our way. Davey chattered nonstop as we drove up the street. Sam and I watched him dribble his soccer ball up the Brickmans’ walk and in the front door. I could only hope that Alice was nearby, keeping an eye on the fragile stuff.

Once Davey was gone, the silence in the car was palpable. Sam turned on the radio, flipped through the buttons, turned up the volume.

I stared out the window and sighed.

It was going to be a very long day.